The Fall From Grace Is Like A Skinned Knee, But Painful All The Same
Poem By Amanda Saveley
***For my dear friend Agnes, who has reignited my desire to spread my voice to the outer distance...because the earth has no corners.***
Winter, you're gunning for me
With each passing hour
I feel your frosted breath at my back
Making my limbs stiffen
Though I've gained wisdom to make words deep
My voice is strained, it cracks
And breaks the message I knew not in youth,
When I was drunk on ignorance
And blurred with lies
Winter, you have pushed the 'sharpen' button on my life's photo editor.
You've made all too clear,
Making sure not to photoshop the truthful lines
That have already begun to crease my brow
With each passing second,
And I'm finding new ways to die.
So click that 'delete' button,
And freeze the 'restore' option in my recycle bin.
Right click, drag, and dropp me out
Come to me in old school style,
Reaper in black, scythe drawn,
With skeletal fingers, grasp my withered hand
And lead me to the unknown
I will not fight you.
Winter, my Winter...
Come close my eyes
And place a penny on my lips
For money's the language I've been forced to learn
In this technologically-advanced social stratus
We're trying to learn how to fight you,
But you're the one thing that can't be beat.
You're the fight that I will lose...
So come, come for me.
I will be waiting,
Like a leaf poised at the end of a feeble twig,
Waiting for wind,
Ready for Winter,
Poised to fall.